Dragon Marked_ Supernatural Prison #1(69)

“Don’t touch her.” Braxton’s voice barely changed tone, he sounded so matter-of-fact. But whatever it was, both men backed off a little.

We traced our path back along the shifter wing, one guard in front of us and one behind. Braxton made me go first so he was at my back and had Mack at his. As we threaded our way through, I was starting to really understand what the quads had tried to explain to me yesterday. Vanguard was designed like an octopus: the large ‘main’ circular body for mingling and food, and then the tentacle-like legs formed the different cell wings for each of the supernatural races. Long and winding was the shifter wing. I could only assume the others were the same.

We had to pass through many silver-coated doors, each locked with multiple key deadbolts and hand sensor recognition. When you thought about it, it was pretty bad judgment that they had the dragon marked in such an unsecure location. I guess they never expected anyone would know they were even there. If it wasn’t for Nash, we never would have known. I really hoped the little boy was okay. I’d have to ask Braxton if they’d had time to get him set up.

Finally, we seemed to reach the main exit. It was a much larger doorway than had been down the stone path. It took both guards to simultaneously press their hands to the sensors to activate the unlocking mechanisms on this one. I could hear the loud shouts and raucous uproar beyond before the door had moved even a sliver. There was some serious intermingling going on out there. I was relieved to find that, despite the suppressing of my wolf, my senses were still functioning almost to normal. The security measures seemed to target just our supernatural animal – the predator that lived inside of a shifter … except for those bloody rabbits, they weren’t predators, they were just bitey little shits.

The door swung open. I expected it to be slow and loud on its hinges. It was a massive door but it opened silently. Although the noise beyond was anything but. The shouting hit me like a slam of water in the face. And not to mention the scents, and the pull of thousands of supernaturals. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, and yet at the same time it brought forth memories of home. Of pack. Of the spice and bite that made up the supernatural community.

“It’s lunchtime. Try not to get eaten.” Mack grinned his asshole grin and left us there. The doors slammed shut again.

Braxton spun so fast I almost missed it, although I was pretty distracted by everything beyond our position. He gripped me on either side of my body, almost lifting me up to face him.

“Do not leave my side, do not let them separate us. They will try, you need to be aware.” His voice was low and close to my ear. I could feel his breath caressing my cheek. “Use your training, Jessa. One on one you have it over all of them, but we are vastly outnumbered.”

“Do you have any friends in here from last time?” My eyes were still trying to dart around and take in the entire room.

He nodded. “Maybe, but none that I trust. You don’t really have friends in here, you form alliances. There are vast differences. Alliances can be shifted easily. Many here gravitate to whomever they think is the most powerful. In their eyes I’ll have lost much strength without my brothers.”

I swallowed. It was a visible movement. Then I schooled my face. It was time to act tough. Well, tougher than I was currently feeling.

We strode into the middle, and unlike the movies, everything didn’t stop so people could stare at us. Mostly no one even glanced our way. They gave zero craps about us, and that was fine with me. My guess was that it would be in a day or so, when someone either scented me or word got around, that we’d have our trouble.

Braxton reached out and gripped my hand. His touch was nice, and then he threaded our fingers together. “First thing, we walk the perimeter, learn the layout, and then we eat.”

I nodded. My tension had me gripping his hand tighter.

The round room was massive, and I mean gi-freaking-gantic massive. It had high stone walls, glittering with their strands of mineral and stone embedded throughout. There was this weird half roof on sections allowing sunlight to flood the area. We were still underground, so this was a sun of magical nature, but it at least gave the illusion that we were outside. I swear a breeze even ruffled my ponytail. Dead center were three huge rows of bench-seat tables and chairs, clearly for eating. They were a lot like the cafeteria ones in Stratford College. These tables were half-filled with supernaturals, some in large groups, others solitary as they focused on the food in front of them.

“There are a lot of demi-fey in here,” I noted.

From my limited view I could see two ogres seated at an especially large table, their bulbous noses the first giveaway; the second was the cobalt blue of their stone-like skin. A hairy cousin of theirs was the source for the Bigfoot legend. As far as I knew he was locked away in one of the Asian prison systems. Celebrities are whisked away from their home countries. Too much exposure if they are ever seen or manage to escape.